


What the hell

by Cear_IK



Series: UnderErased [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Knives, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:52:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9797261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cear_IK/pseuds/Cear_IK
Summary: I tried to write something fluffy..... TRIGGER WARNING, READ THE TAGSIn which Morgue forgets that there are such things as boundaries and probably psychologically scars Comic when he finds her on a day when everyone else is out of the house.Morgue... has no self-preservation instinct. She will never stay dead, so why care? Comic DOES NOT respond to this philosophy well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really did try to write something fluffy... and this is how it ended up. I really, really don't want to know what that says about me.

She watched as the blade bit into the skin of her hand, the feeling more like a thrill spiking through the nerves of her arm than actual  _pain._ She paused in her work a moment just to watch the cut. At first, it was just a line, but then crimson started to well out of it. She watched her blood spill down her wrist and trickle down her arm in a sort of bemused fashion.

_Funny. I would have thought my blood would be black with all my LOVE by now...._

She was bored, so she did it again, fascinated by how the blade parted the flesh of her hand easily, with barely any resistance; how her skin folded around the blade while she held it there, like it was the most natural thing in the world to have steel a full inch into her hand. She hadn't even realized that she had that much fleshy bits on her hand. 

"i'm home!!" Stars, Comic was early. No one was supposed to be in the house. There was a very good reason for that... But in her floaty, detached state, she couldn't quite remember why. "more??"

"In The Tub!!" she yelled back. There was the soft noise of a shortcut - with no one else in the house, it was remarkably quiet - and then grumbling outside the door. 

"more?" 

"I'm decent, bonehead, no need to get all flustered on me." 

"then what the hell are you doin-" the Sans froze, the door half-open, a good-natured chuckle dying on his teeth, eyesockets blown wide. " _morgue?!!"_   She blinked up at him blearily, confused. She very rarely heard the name he knew her by from him, and whenever she did, it was never good.

"What?" 

"whaddya  _mean_ , 'what'? what the  _hell._ " He approached her warily, as if she was holding someone hostage or something.

"I mean, 'what did I do to piss you off  _now_ , bonehead'. Any time you call me by that name, it's 'cuz I've done something wrong, so what was it this time?" He gave her a blank stare, equal parts pissed and incredulous. 

"mind tellin' me whatcha' doin' to your hand there, princess?" She looked at her hand, at the blade she was still pressing into it, then back at him. 

"Oh, this? Don't worry, I didn't steal one of you guys' blades. Got this from the store, it won't go anywhere near the kitchen." The incredulous look won out briefly, only to be promptly overwhelmed by 'seriously pissed off' look. She eyed Comic warily. 

"you think i'm mad about the  _knife?!"_   He all but sputtered. 

".... Yeeahh?? I mean, you  _told_ me not to touch the knives in the kitchen, and I doubt anyone would want to use this knife after I ruined it like this anyways, and I know you don't like the idea of me with a knife in the same house as everyone els-" A bony hand slipped over her mouth, effectively silencing her. She pouted at him. 

"morgue... it's true i don't trust you... you're clearly hiding your true stats, and your soul is missing most of the time... but seriously. what. the.  _hell._  i find you in the tub cutting yourself and you're worried about me getting mad at you about the  _knife?!_ " She looked at him, then at her hand (with the knife still in it), and then back at him.

".... oops??" The incredulous look was back. "I forgot how this would look, okay?"

"how this would  _look?!?_ how is this  _supposed_ to look, 'cuz right now it looks like you really don't care about living." Morgue winced.

"Weeeellll, that wouldn't entirely be wrooong, but if you think I'm trying to commit suicide, then you really don't have to worry."

"don't have to  _worry?!!_ morgue, you have a  _knife_ stuck  _two inches into your fucking hand!!"_

"Two inches?!" She looked. "WOOT! Personal record right there, baby!!" Suddenly she froze, remembering her (less than amused) company, and slowly turned back to the skeleton who (by this time) was kneeling beside the tub she was stretched out in. His eyelights were out and there was an indescribable expression on his face. Somewhere between ' _what the serious fuck'_ and  _'incredibly pissed off'_. 

"ahhh..... heh? Um..."

" _personal. record!?!?"_  He all but hisses. 

"... I can explain??" He growls, ripping the knife out of her hands and tossing it into the void with an audibly angry  _crack_. From the sound of it, that particular knife is going to  _stay_ in the void. With another  _crack_ , the First Aid Kit was in his hands and he was yanking bandages out of it. 

" _explain?! how the fuck do you **explain** anything like  **this**?! what the fuck. what the hell. what the fucking hell._ " Comic continued snarling to himself as he wound the bandaged around the various cuts in her hand, snarling in wordless fury as he discovered the ones on the back of her hand that extended down to her arm. Prudently, Morgue kept her explanations and comments to herself (especially the one about how he'd picked up too much language from Red). Once he had made her hand and wrist into a ball of bandages at the end of her arm, he scooped her up and shortcutted into the room she had claimed for herself. 

" _change_ " came the abrupt command, which she obeyed wordlessly. Comic helped her get her bloody clothes off and the clean, baggy ones on, since she was  _san_ _s_ a hand.... She'd have to tell him that one when he calmed down. If he ever calmed down. Right then, she wasn't very sure he ever would.

When she was blood-free in comfortable clothes and sitting where he had put her on her bed, he opened his phone and made a call. He never once took his eyes off her.

"hey asshole. can you come home? no, i need someone who can heal, and i can't involve blue or my brother. yeah. ....thanks." All in all, it was an amazingly brief call. Morgue was starting to get a little restless under his unblinking stare. 

"....Y'know... I really don't have a death wish, so you can take your eyes off me for more than a heartbeat at a time."

"can't i?" came the deathly-dry reply, and then the two of them sat in silence for the next fifteen minutes. The tension was - heh - thick enough to cut with a knife.

**"COMIC??"**

"up here, edge!" Morgue buried her face in the hand that hadn't been mummified.  _This_ was why she hadn't wanted anyone else in the house- people tended to freak out too much at her more... extreme habits. 

 **"COMIC.....? MORGUE??"** The tall skeleton looked back and forth between the short pissed skeleton and the starting-to-be exasperated human.  **"WHAT HAPPENED?"**

"why don't you ask  _her_ that??" Edgle looked taken aback at the venom in Comic's voice- Morgue simply rolled her eyes. 

"ENOUGH, Comic. I get that you are pissed at me because you don't think that I am taking this seriously enough- but there's no need to let that attitude slip onto someone else, especially since the  _both_ of you should still be at work right now, if I'm not mistaken." She held out the ball of bandages. "He's pissed because of this." Edge raised a browbone, going over to unwrap the bandages so he could start healing her. He hissed as he uncovered her hand- and the razor-sharp cuts she had made in it. 

**"MORGUE... WHAT HAPPENED?"**

"I  _would_ say that I encountered a trash compactor, or the Aggressive Dog if I thought you would believe me and that it wouldn't piss off mr. smol short and skeletal over there to the point where he'd... actually, I really don't want to even try to imagine what he'd do, he's pretty pissed off as it is." She caught the inquisitive look Edge gave her. "He walked in on me," she replied by way of explanation. Edge's eyesockets widened.

"what she didn't mention in her little 'explanation' is that she was completely flippant about the whole thing." Morgue sighed, more than a little out of patience. 

"I was  _not_ flippant- I just don't think it's such a big deal. I really don't have a death wish like you seem to think I do, Comic." She raised a hand, forestalling his interruption. "Think about it. I won't stay dead, so what's the point of killing myself? On the flipside, if I am damaged to the point where I  _do_ die, I won't  _stay_ dead, so overall, there's no danger for me." 

Surprisingly, it was Edge who calmly laid a hand on Morgue's knee. Comic looked ready to summon a Blaster and wreck something.

 **"YOU MAY NOT FEEL THAT THIS IS 'A BIG DEAL', AND YOUR POINTS ABOUT HOW LIKELY YOU ARE TO LOSE YOUR LIFE ARE VALID... BUT YOU FEEL PAIN, DO YOU NOT?"** Morgue nodded, not understanding where Edge was going with this.  **"WHILE I MUST ADMIT THAT THE FEAR THAT YOU WILL KILL YOURSELF ARE BASELESS, DUE TO THE FACTS THAT YOU JUST POINTED OUT, IT IS ALSO THE IDEA THAT YOU WOULD CAUSE YOURSELF PAIN THAT MAKES US UPSET."** This time it was Edge's turn to hold up a hand forestalling interruptions.  **"YOU MAY NOT CONSIDER YOURSELF WORTHY OF OUR CARE... BUT WE DO, AND ISN'T OUR OPINION ON WHAT WE CARE ABOUT WHAT COUNTS?"** Both Comic and Morgue were staring at him, before Comic nodded. 

"what the edgelord said." Edge rolled his eyes at the name, but didn't comment. Morgue threw up her hands in exasperation. 

"Fine, fine! It seems I am outvoted anyways. You won't find me doing that again, alright?" Both skeletons just gave her a look that nearly had her throwing her hands up again. "Fine! I promise I won't do things like that again! Does that make you feel better?" Both skeletons nodded, finally mollified. "Also, thankyou, Edge, for healing my hand." The skeleton in question just shrugged. The three of them sat quietly in the room for a few minutes.

"... Sooo.... What now?" 

".... movie night?"

".......... Who picks?" All three eyed eachother for a moment before bolting for the door in order to be the first one to pick out the movie.

 

 

Edge won by virtue of jumping off the landing.

Neither Comic nor Morgue slept that night. They were too haunted by his choice to do so.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no experience with anything like this. I always get nervous writing about topics I have no experience in. I hope I do them right.  
> Anyway:  
> Self-harm is BAD. DON'T DO IT.


End file.
